


Wish away the stars

by Talonpoppy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Along the lines of Simbad, And Probably A Hug, Angela needs coffee, Ashe being a sassy ashe, Efi being the adorable muffin she is, F/F, Lena being avery drunk lena, Lena being lena, Orisa being intimidating but not, Pirate AU, Satya's smiting stare, Slap a bish, am bad at writing action scenes yet write them I shall, sorta - Freeform, will add characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonpoppy/pseuds/Talonpoppy
Summary: The infamous pirate Captain, Fareeha Amari, finds herself captured and forced to sail towards an accursed Isle. Joined by a quirky crew, and a Scholar they sail the seas in hopes to find The Isle of Stars.





	1. Prelude

Sand washes around them, slashing as they crumple onto the desolate beach. A madend red stare rolls to face the moon, nudged by waves whispering to the shore, attempting to carry them away. 

Light cups their face, scrutinizing over each battered detail; the white of their eyes, bruised wells painted gently beneath; the shake of a silent plea brushing from their lips. 

Darkness watches, slithering just at the beach's edge, a pacing hunger beyond just a hand's reach. It too had seen all that ailed this beast. But unlike the silent sky's maiden the shadows had given it life, reason, a chance to better itself in the world. An offer it had needlessly thrown away. 

But oh, the oblivious moon turns away; hidden behind thundering clouds who roar for her fleeting attention. A cry of loathing regret rips from the creature’s lungs, pleading for her to come back; but the maiden pays no head. Shedding not a tear of light, as the being vanishes into the shadow’s shattered home.

\---

The presence is looming. Gaze set, crawling over the still twitching creature. Had they even stood a chance She wonders, tracing the dark hole that steals it's warmth, letting it bleed into hungering sands below.

It's life would be but a dream by morning, lifted by the high tide, consumed by whatever lurked just out of the light's grasp.

Who had they been in life? Who's whispers of madness had led them to this gods forsaken isle? 

Someone of importance? A master of fools? Ambition of the damned? Greed of the sinful?

Another sailor of the lost. Not that it mattered at the end. They found the creature wanting. It was not in her place to question what it lacked, only that it be fed to the deep.  
It sputters unintelligible words, bubbling like the salvia that spews from their lips. How unfortunate, the shadows had found themselves sated far too easily in these past moons. How many had it been now? Far too many to count, some mad king She supposes, seeking something never meant to leave this Isle.

“You wasted so much for glory.”

More bubbles foam at the creature’s lips, if she heard it’s cries, she pays no heed. The movement is quick, persise, merciful. Glazed eyes, stare into the starless sky as She walks away. 

How many more fools would come in these moonless days? What should She care. The shadows named her a butcher, and all she saw was fresh meat.


	2. Chapter 2

“You the Raptora?”

Fareeha Amari peeks over the top of her glass of watered down beer. Leering at the loudmouth who was sizing up another rogue like gentlemen a few tables across from her. It was one of those nights it seemed. Another half-wit looking for trouble, waiting to get stabbed in the back alley for a loose idea of gold that would get you lodging, and maybe a good meal for a night.

Typical behavior around these docks, surprising she’d thought they could change. Few months at sea rubs away one’s memories of the finer details towards ports. 

“‘Pends on who’s askin’.”

“I am. Got a nice bounty on your head, foolish of ya to come out with that fancy seal o’ yours.”

“This ol’ thing? Thought it was some of them fancy wears. Ain’t that right Capn’?”

“Only if you think gulls are fine dining McCree.”

Oh bloody hell. The Captain smirks behind her cup, already hearing tempered footsteps approaching her booth. Seems she’s been set up to join in this soiree tonight.

“Captain Amari I’d presume?”

“Need a curtsy?"

Fareeha raises an eyebrow at the speaker who’d approached her booth. She doesn’t rise to her offer of a curtsy, instead she only sinks further into her chair.   
“Coming to collect a bounty I presume.” Fareeha mocks their uppity tone, while she quaffs her ale.

This one seemed far more nervous than that of their brutish companion. Smart. Not that that’d save their pocket coin; bilge rats probably already cut those flimsy pockets.

“Actually an offer.”

The Captain tips her cup back ready to drown out their words. 

“I’m not certain if you’ve heard the word around these ports.”

Fareeha sets her mug down gently, before leaning back into the seat once more. Her eyes lock to an even stare with the fool who, for their credit, didn’t piss themself and run off screaming. Not that one couldn’t see them favoring the booth’s side closest to the door.

“But I don’t do business on the docks.”

“I could arrang-”

“And the fact that you’ve come here means troubles of dire need. Of which I do not pursue for my crew. Dire often means death or my ship in splinters, and those are things I’d very much like to avoid. Plenty of other Captains be throthing at a chance for that gold of yours I’m sure. Fancy them with your offer.”

The Captain nods in dismissal before freeing a throwing knife from the sleeve of her shirt. She flips it in the air a few times, then arcs it back and tosses it absentmindedly past the fool; watching as they pick through their thoughts.

The knife thunks into a faded board, sending a few splinters as it sinks through. A few cheers from those closest to see the ancient red paint confirm the bullseye. Smile reaching to her eyes, a touch of light in a dark sea of brown.

“Best bettin’ you threw your hat in with the guards out there?” 

“Thinkin’ you could score a deal with the cap, n’ just call out to collect that ol’ bounty eh? Use them legs while they’re still good mate, n’ walk away with what little coin u’ve got left. ‘Cause them guards are about two dice short of the Capn’s lot.”

The woman closest to Fareeha, a small, wirely brunette, with angry sunburnt lines splashing across her face, hiccups the warning; before returning to her drink.

Keeping a business like smile and finally composing themself, the loudmouth pulls on the collar of their shirt, before waving over the brutish companion that had leaning back in the shadows since their arrival. 

Fareeha sighs inwards, never losing her humored grin. If this is how they wanted to show a bit of fang, by sending a bodyguard after her head, well. A few throwing daggers weren’t the only things she kept in her coat’s pockets.

“Oh the guard’ll listen mate. Not jus’ the bounty Mr.Tovx came to collect.”

The scroll is flung with little care, clattering onto the table like a pair of weighted dice. Fareeha makes no move towards it, just seeing the seal that rolls to the edge of her view is enough to cause that humorous smile to falter. 

“I was under the knowledge that the King of Sifs, wished for me and my crew to be tarred, lynched;after which our corpses be dragged through the kingdom until only the dogs cared to gnaw on our bones.”

“He has use of your. . .talents.”

“The same talents you’d find by any other half baked fool to these docks.”

“Crown of Sif can piss on it ‘en. Them slavers care not two dams fer anythin’ other than gold an-”

_“Hush Lena.”___

_ _Fareeha tips her mug of ale back, finishing what little remained in the mug. The King of Sifs? He’d been after her crew for years. Main reason why she even holed up in this port, heavens help her it wasn’t the piss they called beer or the knife’s edge hospitality. Sifs has a lot of power in the world, made her life a living hell for it._ _

_ _There was a good possibility the seal was faked. Plenty of mad men could do it, but few remember that sickly scent of the paper he used. Official letters, infused with oils that boasted the description of mint. She'd describe it as something of Scotchbroom, or a long dead cedar mulch._ _

_ _It was hard to mistake, even harder to replicate. _ _

_ _Silence drains between the two, fracturing as the man finally relents to a scowl, it burrows deeply into well worn creases._ _

_ _"I'd advise you reconsider."_ _

_ _He flinches back as the Captain strides from the side of the booth, standing a head over him, stern and more militant posture dominating the short distance between the two.  
Realization of the mistake was fast dawning on him with the hush of the bar, as if this woman stole the very breath of each patrion._ _

_ _"The king will not take no. You will either-"_ _

_ _A thump stops his stuttering speech, head swiveling to the sound, and all of his words are lost. His 'muscle' had knocked aside one of the chairs closest to the group.   
The guard was struggling under the bulging muscle of a member of the captain's crew. She seemed unfazed, holding the brute as if they weighed no more than a book._ _

_ _"You can set him down Alexandria."_ _

_ _The Captain's voice is calm, soft, but practically bristling with an icy hostility. _ _

_ _"Lena, please do make sure our friend doesn't have any ideas."_ _

_ _Lena grins as she pulls the smaller man into the Captain's now vacated seat. _ _

_ _"20 pounds says she take a limb.”_ _

_ _Lena was smiling in a drunken blush as she called out a few bets to her fellow shipmates._ _

_ _Fareeha slips off the heavy overcoat, casting it off onto Lena who falls back in their chair. Two swords sink on her belt freed from the clothes stiff hold. They draw easily from their sheaths, polished metal glimmers dully in the caverns dim light. Leather warm in her grip, familiar, the weight a familiar presence as she begins to stalked towards the guard.  
Her smile sparks eagerly as the brute lumbers forward. A snarl aimed at the pink haired cannoneer, but they pull away towards the captain. A moth to flame, allured by fire burning in her eyes._ _

_ _A clash comes quickly a blur of steel sparking through the cavern. Illuminating the two's faces like thunder in the night._ _

_ _Fareeha sways on the balls of her feet, pulsing forward and back, stepping away from the heavy arc of the other's blow and surging forward just beneath, before rocketing up.  
The pommel of her right blade smashes into the brute's jaw while the other is raised to connect with the arm that swings in his unsteady stumble._ _

_ _She steps back, a thin spreading of color to her cheeks and a soft huff betraying a giddiness from the drink. _ _

_ _Spitting blood from his bleeding tongue the guard recovers, readying another swing for the Captain. The captain tilts her blades preparing for the strike, completely focused on her opponent and not towards those above her, they drop with a single word, striking her swiftly before she can lung to take the man’s arm. Allowing her world to swim into an explosion of black._ _


	3. Chapter 3

Light, a dizzying haze of madness; dust falls like the dull droplets of reality, all a fuzzy blur through an unfocused lens. Fareeha's head throbs a warning. Her weak willed stomach upheaves any contents she had in response, as she rolls to her side to avoid an embarrassing death.

"Good to see you up Cap."

"See that swine again and I’m taking him to the depths myself." The woman growls, spitting the foul aftertaste of the bile from a busted lip. Sucking on the agitated wound, her scowl furthers on the realization that she’d indeed been kicked while down. Cheap bastards. She grumbles as Lena begins her whirling recollection of the events.

"Abush from the rafters. Snuck in with rucus of the brawl. Once you went down, whole crew went mad after 'em. Swen raid came in, biggest group of coppers I ever seen docks side. Took a few down for we got swarmed." The woman offers a lofty grin, even in the dull oil lit light, Fareeha could see how deeply puffed the woman's right eye was. Along with the slight misshape of her nose.

"Got the great Pharah 'eh? Swell to know I ain't the only one caught up in this round up."

The Captain swivels her head towards the cell next to them, her stomach protesting aggressively. A woman with ghost white hair, eyes as red and angry as she was, and a frown probably predating time, stares back.

"Ashe?"

"Good to see ya Pharah.” The woman drawls out the nickname, “thought you got lost to the mists, your crews been gone so long. But our luck runs out eventually don’t it?”

“Just a minor set back.” The captain state sternly, straightening herself as best she could with her upset organs.

"Ashe was approached with the same deal as us Cap." Lena had picked up her voice and was pacing to a dizzying degree. Fareeha, not wishing to upset her stomach any further, chose the simple option of closing her eyes, leaning on the wall away from Ashe, and just letting her first mate ramble.

"Turns out the Sifs really have been making their move. Cut off trade with Aldersport in response to 'em being lax on the lawless. With all them ships being caught up in those raids, the traffic of goods procured in, questionable, ways began to make it to docks less often.”

“Port got squeezed by the sifs, made ‘em agree to takin’ in their patrols so the port wouldn’t go under.” Ashe finishes the rambling, tilting her hat down as she settles back onto the wall.

“Friendly reminder. Put a muzzle on that first mate o’ yours. Got enough problems with the Junkers being just down yonder.”

Fareeha squints open her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. The Dreadlocks and The Junkers? 

“Ah least you lot got a warning. Blasted coppers dam near blew the place up gettin’ to my crew!” 

The rattled voice of Jamison Fox, more well known as Junkrat, knocks down the hallway in his same maniced ramble.

“Sure that wasn’t jus’ one of your inventions Ratboy?”

Fareeha tentatively settles back onto the wall, trying her best to ignore the three who’d begun shouting arguments about just who blew up the Junker’s shack. 

It concerned the captain, the Sifs hadn’t been this active in years. They hadn’t had that much power, nor the resources, what had changed? Whatever the true answer, she knew one thing for certain. It was not one she’d be liking.

\---

Hours, days, some offering of time passed, a confusing game of sleep and scraps told them that it was so. Yet as the ticks grew on the walls, no word was passed upon their sentence. Guards, came in to give food, drink, and the occasional rag for wash. Then left, with no taunts passed, or even an expressive side eye. 

“They want us alive for something.” Fareeha presses the cool rag to her temple, as if it would appease her muddled mind. “Sifs knows we’re not the types who will be broken by hunger.”

“Maybe they planning our execution?”

Lena nods to her captain while continuing her unending pacing. Hadn’t stopped since she got here, nor would those legs wear out anytime soon. 

“Sure they have plenty of ways to get them vultures on us.” Ashe was on the other side of her cell, busying herself with trying to reactivate her golem. “They’d pick from a hat for flavor.”

“Maybe they’re finding a jury for our trial.” This earns a chuckle from most of those close enough to hear it. The Sifs would rather fall on their own swords than give a pirate a “fair” trial. Hell, even a trail was some forgein fantasy. 

“They wouldn’t keep up maintained, less they have a use for us.”

\---

An answer would come quickly. Two days, not that they’d know. Before a group of guards approached each cell carrying unique devices for each prisoner.

“Careful with that one.” Fareeha can hear the rushed whisper from a guard unlocking her cell. “Salvic, you retain her. No Gultch, you don’t need the syphon runes, can’t use magic, but sure as hell can crack a skull.” 

The Captain smiles, as the keys clatter from the guard’s hands, dropping with a rattling clang to the floor. Cursing, he tries for the keys again, only to find them in the hands of the woman on the other side. 

The metal is cool in Fareeha’s fingers as she offers it back to the guard. There was no real reason to fight these men. Each Captain knew there’d be an army up the stairs waiting to take their heads, should they try to run. So she accepts the cuffs onto her wrists with little complaint. 

To be fair. She wasn’t getting the worst treatment. The metal links, while painful and certainly chafing to the skin after a few minutes, didn’t come close to the stiff iron links that bound Ashe. The woman keeps herself composed, but one could already see the runes and metal working quickly to eat away at what little magic the cell hadn’t drained. Her fae lineage, didn’t make the iron much more comfortable.

Jamison on the other hand appeared to be in a portable prison. A full body straight jacket binds his limbs from drawing any symbols, and the muzzle drawn tightly over his face blocked even his mouth from opening to do similar acts. Annoying and mad as he was, Fareeha had to give it to the man, he did make himself a threat with a rather limited set of options.

Lena is pushed back into the cell as they pull Fareeha into the hall, her expression is sour, but there was another anxiety that haunted her features. They both could smell it. Blood was heavy in the air.

Fareeha tugs, testing her restrains as she’s pulled forward by the veiled brute one of the guards had dubbed, Salvic. Lena rushes at the bars a slew of choice words caterwauling from her throat. 

The guards ignore her, as the group pulls into a slow march. Fareeha’s first mate’s shouts die out shortly, but Jamison makes sure there’s plenty of noise as he actively fights against the muzzle and a gag spell the guards had placed upon him. 

“Couldn’t have done that a few weeks ago?”

Suppressed as the atmosphere was, Fareeha found it a challenge to not smirk towards Ashe’s remark. The guards say nothing, staying in that uncharacteristic silence that had bothered the captain for as long as they’d been there. Sifs where proud, difficult, and not still tongued people. As long as Fareeha could remember they’d find every chance to slide an insult to a pirate in any conversation. 

And yet. Now it seemed as if the entire guard had simply forgotten how to speak. 

\---

They drudge on for time that was hard to count. Hallways blurred into others, stones ancient as the laws themselves blocking the outside. Fareeha had long since stopped counting the hallways or noting each turn made. She could taste the magic lingering through the air, a choking smog ever changing in how it curls across her tongue.   
This place had been charmed to be in constant shift. Only those with a specially carved key could make their path through, without getting forever lost in a labyrinth of never ending halls.

So it comes to a stiff surprise when the group shuffles to a halt in front of a door, which, honestly looked no different than previous ones they’d come by. Simplistic in carving, pine, aged and speaking of the damp conditions of the dungeon. 

The guard in front holds their stone, staring into it’s glowing surface. Fareeha had half a mind to hope the thing made the man go blind. Yet, fates would ignore her wish as the guard scrapes the stone gently over the door’s knob, before opening it to a slightly less musty room. It still lacked windows and was well lit by candles, but the air tasted fresher than before. Far less stale, and more laced with the comings of the world. 

Sad that it was soured by the man that sat away from the band. The Captain feels her expression and body stiffen, making it a struggle to move her, almost as this thing's very presence alone had turned her to stone.

"Prince Alexander."

The guard in lead leans in for a bow, Alexander only sniffs in disgust, not even attempting to look at the Captains.

"Yes yes. Filth my father chose to put purpose to, to why he made me sully my hands with even having the dealings of such. Well is beyond me."

“Ya gonna keep bayin’ like a dog?”

Ashe spits at the princes feet, making the man recoil and her having a quick slap with one of the guard’s sheathed blades. The woman spits again, clearly undeterred by her swelling cheek. She’s forced to the ground, her head pressed into the stones.

“Put a muzzle on that one, if it can’t learn some manners.”

“What do you want Prince.” Fareeha’s mouth curls at the word. This man was only prince by blood, not by the people. Like his father, he rules only by taking from those he could exploit. Her hands twitch hungering for her blades, the prince notices his face folding into a grotesque grin.

“Father would say I need to address my toys wouldn’t he. Very well.” The man opens his arms wide gesturing as if the room were filled with more than 3 half starved sailors and 4 guards. “The kingdom of Sifs has need of your services, rats. You should be honored that we didn’t send you to the gallows. My glorious father has fallen ill to a sickness that our healers have simply. . . lost their heads. . . to find a cure for.”

The Captain’s insides recoil from the rueful gleam in the prince’s eye. 

“But we have an answer in the _Isle of Stars_. There’s said to be a staff that can cure any ailment. My father has so graciously offered that you be reprieved of all your wrong doings, and given a worthy sum of gold for your endeavours.”

A muffled laugh resonates from the floor as Ashe shoves the guard holding her down into the wall, the remaining guard react faster than the starved pirate’s actions could allow. Grabbing the woman as she is pulled away from the Prince. 

“I ain’t sailin’ for some whisper madden fool, gallows ain’t even a glimmer of worse than what you’re purposin’!”

Fareeha’s neck aches as she swivels to look at Ashe. The woman, even with half a swollen cheek, and blood weeping from fresh wounds, held an expression that one could call unease. It seeded a sense of anxiety in Fareeha.

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option.” The prince leans in with his sickly sweet smile, Fareeha clenches her teeth towards the stench that the Prince emanated. It was similar to that of their royal seal, but somehow far worse.

“That Isle isn’t a place for anythin’ but what’s trapped there.” Ashe leans in and swiftly headbutts the Prince, who falls back heavily on his ass. The guards pull her back, drawing several signs onto her skin. Ashe falls forward, unconscious as the Prince gets up and slams his foot into her side. 

“You’ll be sailing there changeling filth, if not as the captain, then as a sacrifice or whatever that Isle needs to give us it’s treasures.” 

Fareeha moves to block the boy’s foot from touching the downed Captain again. She says nothing, but towers over the Prince. A glower set on her lips, refusing to express anything, but promising a threat that registers as he backs away and swings his beedy face to address the room.

“You have 3 days before each of your ships will be setting sail. I warn you now, should you think you can kill those stationed of my guards and run away free. Know that no port will ever be safe to your colors. Your ship will be blown to splinters far before you can take harbor. Your lives will be a hell of your own creation!” 

The Prince had worked himself to a throthing tizzy, spit flew from his lips as he practically shrieked his words. 

“Now get this filth out of my sight!”

\---

Ashe was quite long after they’d been returned to their cells. She’d given up on reviving B.O.B. instead going into a slump beside her silent golem. Her skin was blistered from the iron chains, that they’d wrapped around each of her arms, and her skirmish with the Prince and his guards left plenty of bruises on her fair skin. Fareeha had ripped much of her shirt and helped to settle a thin layer of protection, but it did little to dilute the effects.

“What is the Isle of Stars?”

Ashe gives Fareeha a curious look, as if the very idea of one not knowing about this Isle was pure insanity. 

“Cursed place. Only those who’ve been taken by the sea’s whispers speak of it. It’s a place that promises power, but, I ain’t met a soul who comes back from those waters that isn’t a lifeless shell. Pray they come back at all.”

“King’s dying, why should we care? Said the place was full of treasure, what could be so bad about going in grabbing some stupid staff, and coming out rich as kings?”  
Ashe only laughs towards Jamison’s ignorant remark, tucking herself back into the golem’s embrace. Too drained to say anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Fareeha finds herself startled from her thoughts when the torches around the cells had burned low. It wasn’t like her to be distracted, but it wasn’t like her to be in a cell either. She’d been lost in contemplations about this entire mess. Ashe had been no help, Junkrat was just a constant mutter of explosions (literal and not), even Lena had read the crestfallen atmosphere and settled into a corner to sleep.

Three days to figure out if she’d work for the very people she’d spent her life trying to tear apart, or see her entire crew subjected to whatever cruel death the Sif’s could scheme up. Could they be bluffing? But Aldersport wasn’t a place that would fall easily to some regulations or blocked trades, something, or someone, much larger was helping the Sifs.  
Fareeha chews her lip sorting through a list of names and allies of the Sifs that could gain from all this, before two bright yellow orbs break through her mind’s fog. A large, wooden creature, stares at her from just outside her cell.

She shifts backwards, the new presence mimics this movement, scanning her with their luminescent gaze.

“Captain Fareeha Amari? Leader of the Raptora, known as Pharah. Wanted for theavary, manslaughter, arson, and trafficking of contraband materials and personal.”  
“Orisa. I think she knows what crimes she’s committed!”

A small figure tugs on the staring sentinel, their grasp is hindered by a cloak that was clearly made for one about 5 times larger than they. The sharp geometric angles of a rhino are crumpled in the cltoh’s folds, but Fareeha was well acquainted with the seal of the Numbani kingdom.

"I wasn't aware I could be arrested again." Orisa looks to say something, but their companion runs over them with an unrelenting slue of questions.

"Are you really the Raptora's Captain? Is it true you can't use magic? Did it take an army to bring you down? Ca-"

“Efi. . .”

The creature mumbles the words as another voice cuts above the two.

“Ms.Oladele, I’m not certain that a pirate would be truthful to your inquiries. Especially one of this notoriety.”

Efi blinks their mouth twisted in contemplation. 

“I suppose you’re right.”

There's that twitch again, her hand seeking metal that she may never find.

" Ms.Oladele don't bother yourself with talking to this filth. We only needed your golem to accompany it."

Fareeha leers skeptically at the guard who is striding towards the young girl, his breath coming at a labored pace.

"Oh I know! But Orisa has been hardly field tested, I need to make sure she functions properly." 

There's a youthful bite to the girl's words as she pats the creature beside her. Was it really a golem? The magic that sparks across their bark like skin would've fooled her for a fae in any other circumstance.

"Your _golem_ is expendable child." The guard had reached the girl, and was attempting to grab her. Orisa, blocks this. Their glowing yellow eyes blinking as they swivel their head towards the woman in the prison cell, and the guard grabbing for her creator.

"Orisa is not. . . .I, I need to record the results."

"I can record whatever information is needed."

"You don't know what to look for!"

"Will if you tell me."

"Even if I tell you, you may miss it!"

Fareeha was enjoying the guard's frustration in this child. Children of Numbani, hell that whole region, were hard to argue with. They always had a clever brilliance to them, that stayed well into their years.

"I will protect Efi. Commander Pale. I may still be new at this, but am confident that I can secure her protection."

Pale scoffs, but seemed far too done with the child to put up much more of a fight. "Course a child's creation would say it's "fit" for duty." 

A soft clink of the lock echoes around the room, soon to be drowned by the thundering scrape of the door. Fareeha stays still, uninterested in whatever this was about, and makes no more effort in acknowledging the two bantering jailers.

"What Rat too scared to skitter away?"

"Na. Jus' tired of you lot."

Pale blinks at the outstretched fist of a rather flabbergasted Lena. Soft green strands fall like a winter's ash off the first mate's clothes as an orb fades from its limited existence. The woman is dropped a few feet from the air. 

Fareeha feels a scowl pull on the edges of her lips. 

_More magic. _

A displacement spell was unusual for a golem, normally the soulless constructs could only do simple runes and forms, the orb, even for a fleeting second, was beyond a complexity she’d seen even some mages be able to muster.

"Lena Oxton. Notable record offense would be forgery of court documents, 27 acts of blasphemy, and the burning of King Sif's Stoneduck fleet."

"Boat was ugly, sin it left port more than once."

Lena brushes herself off, sneering at the guard. Apparently being dragged away from her sucker punch hadn’t slow her down.

"Not half as ugly as yer sad snout though."

Captain Pale places two fingers up, soft blue crawls like frost on glass across the tips. 

"What is it that you're itching for Sif?" Fareeha had crossed in front the man faster than he'd expected her to. Even in chains, half starved and sleep deprived, the pirate wasn't any less of an imposing force. 

The prison rags showed years of scars hidden behind tattoos from one nation or the next. Years of mistakes that shape a soul to a steel blade. Even the touch of his frost magic didn’t phase the woman as she pressed against the chains, blocking any chance of the man touching Lena.

"Our glorious prince has requested you be shown to our library."

"That what you call that pig?"

"Watch your tongue."

"Cut it out you spineless dog."

"Captain Pale." Orisa tilts their head, a hint of amusement glimmering at the edge of their call.

He rolls his eyes, pulling Fareeha forward to whisper one final threat.

"Don't think to get clever rat. Take a hostage, don't matter who, guards ‘ave their orders." 

He pulls away, the smile of a knowing man resting smuggly on his lips. He looked remarkably like the bloated fish head Fareeha had seen at the market when they had made port.  
"Your most glorious of hosts has offered you a tour of our esteemed library. So as to aid your efforts to The Isle of Stars."

"Save the speech for someone who cares."

\---

If you had told Captain Pale that he'd be playing babysitter to one of the most notorious pirates to curse the Kingdom of Sif a few months ago, you'd have been stripped of your rank or put in the mines for such an unfathomable insult. Now he was watching as a child strolled with not a fear in the world, next to The Raptora, clambering a never ending stream of questions, while their pet marches dutifully beside them like some giant stone puppy.

It felt like he’d upset one of his patrons, or perhaps spat on the wrong grave. 

The pirate was a lot more quiet than he’d have reckoned, most he met would be lapping every word of praise or recognition they could get. Slobbering on the idea that they ruled the waters and were above the laws and reasons of the land. Yet she was rather limited in her responses, acting in a directness he’d have been more reserved to see in one of his fellow soldiers than a pirate. 

A soft curse comes from the thought, why was he even thinking of comparing one of his decorated guardsmen as something close to this sea rat?

“If you didn’t really do all they say, why is there such a large bounty on your head?”

“Men don’t like when cargo is stolen from them, even less if it can speak up for itself.”

Pale pulls harshly on the pirate’s binds, “watch your tongue rat. In any case, we’re here.” 

Fareeha bites her cheek in an effort to not lash out at the guard, it would only take a word and she’d have some sort of sharp object nudged in her back. He knew it, simply from that same smug look he throws her as they step into the sun glazed library.

It was impressive, she had to give them that. Sunlight feathers in colored strands across the gleaming marble entrance. Fareeha squints as light plays around her hands and feet, a swimming ocean of gold, swirling lazily as the group moves through the hall. Massive pillars of enchanted glass rise up to hold a ceiling that reflected the stars. Halls of ancient tomes and scrolls spread out from every side, and even wrapped up into floors above. Fareeha had rarely seen such vast collections of knowledge, it was a shame it was under the lock and key of a neglectful kingdom.

Pale tugs on the chains binding Fareeha, they glow a gentle blue as the links separate and mold to where only the cuffs remain. “Move even an inch from the library and every guard will know you location.” 

“You have five hours to find what you need. The picture books are in the south wing, may even find something you can read.”

Fareeha says nothing, moving away from the two guards. The Sif’s had her trapped, and she hated every second of it. Being paraded around like some prized dog, it was a game to them, and one she couldn’t even have a say in playing. Not if she wanted her crew away from the gallows. 

5 hours was barely enough time to map a course, let alone research an Isle she’d never even heard of before. They wanted her to fail, to have an excuse to go against their mad king’s words and enact their laws. It made her stomach chur at the thought.

“Are you not going to use the library’s search system?”

Efi had hustled to catch up with Fareeha, a bold move considering the pirate had free movement of her hands. Yet the child had seen nothing to fear in the pirate thus far, and Fareeha saw little need to feed into an image that the Sif’s had created.

“I’d rather avoid using something like that.”

The young inventor gave the pirate a hard look over, as the woman made note of shelves and books to find her barings.

“So you can’t use magic?”

“It is an ill fated tool.”

Fareeha says nothing more, her eyes still scanning for something to understand how the library worked.

_“Are you looking for something particular?”_ The two startle as a tall figure seemingly appears from behind one of the bookshelves. They had a good few inches on Fareeha, but the Captain would swear it was more than half a foot just from how they looked down at the two. Like they were smudges that needed to be wiped away. A small tag on their gown read, “Satya.”

“Just star maps, weather logs and any books on the Isle of Stars.”

Satya sniffs, bringing up their arm. It was an odd thing to behold, the same enchanted glass that made up the pillars shone under an odd white plating that Fareeha had only seen a few times before. It was completely functional. Small runes fly across the surface with little prompting from the woman’s hand.

“It would have been more logical and time efficient to use the library's catalogue.” The Captain shrugged, unsure what to say as Satya began walking away from the two, before glancing back impatiently. 

“If you would please.”

\---

It took nearly an hour to traverse the sections and find even half of the materials Fareeha had requested. Satya, had sent small little golem like podlings out to collect more of the materials before vanishing back into the labyrinth of shelves. She wasn’t sad to see the rather strange librarian leave, she was still amazed they hadn’t smited her on the spot.

The Captain settles into a table away from most of the patrons of the library, not that there were many around. It was, after all, the royal family’s library, she doubted any commoner would be allowed in to better themselves with knowledge that was practically being lost to time. Another sour taste to add to this rotten meal.

A small thump brings Fareeha to reality as one of the podlings cheaps it’s return, a rather large tome balanced on it’s head. Orisa picks the book and passes it to the Captain, before petting the polding which cheaps again in what Fareeha would assume to be pleasure. 

“Medlin’s tales of the deep.”

The pages crackle to Fareeha’s touch, the smell of must, and something that set the woman’s skin on edge emanated from the book. It told of ancient beasts of the deep, one’s Fareeha had only heard spoken by the eldest of sailors, ones whom no longer even dared to wade into the sea, for they had seen wonders and horrors that waited to drag them and their secrets back into the deep.

_“The Isle of Stars.”_

The text rolled through her mind like a fog setting in, concealing a danger she could barely conceptualize. She began to read the words, feeling them tumble from her mouth in a mutter, as if they could light the way and burn through the choking clouds.

_“The Isle of Stars. I had first heard of this elusive Isle when a mad man washed upon the coastal town of Lou. He’d been taken by the *whispers.”_  
“It hadn’t been my first encounter with one whom had been consumed. He like many, was a throthing mess. Much of what foamed from his lips was nothing more than sweet lies to pull others down with him.”   
“Yet that name stuck with me, perhaps I was not as strong a man as I’d hoped. Or maybe it was the poetic nature of his words. ‘Wish upon an Island, hidden away from the stars’ No matter the reason, I simply had to know just what was this Island?”  
“The Fae I’d come to some, common. . . understandings and relations had seemed rather opposed to sharing much of anything about the Isle. One even trying to persuade me against it. It seems from what I could gather, that this Isle could be a sort of infection, maybe not one too distant than that of the Whispers. Simply looking for the knowledge will lead the seeker to yearn to see the Isle for themselves.” 

Fareeha flips the brief section back and forth before numbly turning to the noted asterisk.

_*An incurable illness upon one’s mental state, that slowly bleeds into the physical. Those taken will first begin to ramble about the cursed creatures of the blackened waters, found when the sun will never shine and ships are taken to the depths below. Those afflicted will slowly deteriorate from dehydration, starvation, or asphyxiation should one try to force the lost soul to eat._

She pushes the tome away. These books left her a little unsettled, the words echoed in her head. The King of Sif’s wanted the help of some being that even the fae seem fearful of, and she was just a pawn to his play for it. What of her crew? Ashe had been so opposed to the idea that she’d practically tried to skip to the gallows herself.

“You can read the old tongues?”

The sudden intrusion of a soft voice almost made Fareeha punch the person whom was staring over her shoulder. The figure, was practically consumed by their wears. Heavy cotton robes of white and gold finish, sagged over much of their form, hiding all but a small pale hand that peeked out as it clutches a handful of books. Their voice is feminine, but Fareeha was no stranger to that meaning little of what a person could be.

A small podling was hanging off one of the books they were holding, attempting it’s best to pull it away from the person’s firm grip  
.   
Fareeha is quite, she was uncertain what to say as the figure relinquishes the book the small golem had been trying for, to allow it to place it on the growing pile.  
“Pardon my intrusion.” The person dips slightly before going to the other side of the table and holding out their hand. 

“My name is Angela, I’m a scholar here. You are looking into the Isle of Stars I take it?” 

Fareeha is hesitant to answer the Scholar, from what she’d read, those whom seeked the Isle, may be already consumed by the damned.

Efi speaks up when the captain continues her silence. “Has the King asked for you to seek the stories as well?” 

Angela nods to the child, their smile wavering, “I’m afraid so.” 

Tasked or forced? Fareeha wonders as she reaches for another of the star maps. She notices a small shake to Angela’s hands, shying away from the books that the small golems continued to deposit on the table.

Why was she so surprised that the Sifs had employed their own scholars to dive into the madness in search of a mystical cure for their deranged king.

The three work in silence for a long while, Fareeha having to set down the pen Efi had lent her, once she could bear the cramps no longer. Angela had their nose stuck in one of the newer tomes, while Efi was scribbling her own notes as Orisa wandered close by.

“Are you one of the new sailors?”

“New sailors?”

Angela peeks from the top of the tome, their misty blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“Yes. The king spoke of a new fleet leaving for the Isle after his last returned.”

“Why not send out the old fleet?”

Angela hesitates while looking at Efi, who had just run off to stop Orisa from running into a bookshelf.

“The old fleet returned home with the heads of each crew stuck to the sides of their ships.”

Fareeha frowns, looking between her notes and the maps sprawled across the table, “I hadn’t been informed of that.”

Angela shakes their head, fingers wrapping around the edges of the tome in their hands, pressing into the leather that binds the book. Their face is blank, but have eyes that read of stormy thoughts. 

The two look up as the clank of metal plating sounds above the scolding Efi had been doing. Pale had returned, with the same glowering look, which had seemed to increase ten fold by the piles of books, maps, and notes. His displeased posture brought a satisfied tilt to the edges of Fareeha’s lips, it was nice to see the man not be so smug.

“Your time is up here, the Prince wishes for me to return you to your. Accommodations.” Pale looked like his name sake, pale and almost sick as he charmed his words. He swiveles his head towards the Scholar and nods respectfully. “I hope she hasn’t been too much of a problem for you Ms.Ziegler.” 

Angela smiles, it’s a gentle sort of crinkle to her face, like a flash of lightning in a storm. Violent, yet, in distance, almost calming.

“Not at all Captain Pale. In fact I found-” Angela blinks, “how foolish and disrespectful of me. I forgot to even ask your name.” 

Fareeha clears her throat, wondering when she’d last drank anything. “It’s Fareeha.” 

“It was a pleasure then meeting you Fareeha. I shall leave you and Captain Pale to your devices then.” Fareeha follows Angela as she leaves, the Scholar pulls up her hood when she’s away from the table, once more, being consumed by a wave of white fabric. 

Pale leaves little time for Fareeha to recover, as he swipes the notes, and more keenly, Efi’s pen, away from the woman.

“These will be reviewed tonight for any tretury. If they’re cleared, you’ll be granted return.” The guard almost spits the words out, it was clear, he didn’t want her to step foot away from the cell, less it be towards a noose.

She simply shrugs towards the captain, let him try to find things that didn’t exist in her calculations and notes. Better to be allowed a return to know the dangers ahead, than to be stubborn and leave yourself to the mercy of the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the first 3 (kinda 4) chapters I got completed. Again, it's been a pet project of mine that I wanted to get up to at least where Fareeha met Angela before posting. It's been fun to write, and I'm quite sure by the end of it, I'll be a master at boat trivia. '^' Anyway, I do hope you've enjoyed this, and if you have any question, concerns or suggestions, don't be afraid to comment below!

**Author's Note:**

> So, other than me being unable to resist writing new AU ideas, Wish away the Stars has been a small project I've worked on the side after posting the inital idea to a few friends who got excited about the idea. I hope to do it justice (no pun inteneded). Anyway, I do hope you all enjoy, and if you have any questions, comments or suggestions, don't be afraid to post something down below!


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